Travelogue 5-10

Travelogue 6

Dateline: Yaroslavl’, Russia; April 1, 2010—At last, back in the great Motherland. I’ll be here for two weeks and hopefully be able to write a few travelogues between duties. It is my desire to be more diligent with my writing. So many things happen, so many thoughts come to my mind, then disappear like the winter snow on a warm spring day. Of course here in Yaroslavl’, a small city a hard five-hour drive north of Moscow, the snow still lies heavy in mute tribute to Al Gores great piece of sci-fi, An Inconvenient Truth. They have had a hard winter here, as they had in Ukraine, and in China, and back in the USA. It is amazing how deceitful weather can be. On our drive up here, all snug in the backseat of a Lada, one of two Russian-made automobiles, it was lovely outside. The sun had the snow in full retreat, its bright rays warming us even more in the close confines of the speeding vehicle. Then we passed a lake and out in the middle were numerous fishermen, hunched over their boreholes, trying to catch supper. A chill passed over my body.

Those who responded to my question at the end of the last travelogue agreed that third person was not as effective as first person. So, back to the first person, and to the rest of the story. As you may recall, I left you hanging about my train ticket. On Tuesday, my host and hostess, a wonderful couple living at the Union compound, took me out for sightseeing and exercise. We took two metros (subways here) far beneath the bowels of the earth. When we came to our stop, we had to take two escalators to reach the surface. Never have I been on such long escalators. I estimate each one took us up three to five stories.

Breaking into the sunshine, and it was a beautiful day, they took me to a famous WWII memorial park. Very beautiful and, having a special attachment to all things military, most interesting. We also went to a major Orthodox seminary. The Orthodox churches in Kiev are many and huge. The new president of Ukraine is moving the country toward the Russian Orthodox church, as well as slowly closing the doors on all other churches.

Now, in the midst of the memorial park is a very tall monument of a woman holding up a sword and shield. But there is something a bit wrong with the woman. My friend Sergii explained that the statue was taller than a nearby Orthodox tower, and that just couldn’t be. So they shortened the sword and the upper part of the woman’s body so her head sits lower than it should. The Orthodox church has power over here.

We then walked to the site of the Orange Revolution of four years ago. I was anxious to see this history-making location. We were now in the center of Kiev. And we continued to walk, and walk, and walk. You can imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw the place where I had been staying. We had walked all the way home. Great exercise. But what might this have to do with my ticket?

I had been carrying the ticket with me, as well as a camera, tissues, pen, pad of paper, wallet; all these in my jacket pockets. And that night I could not find the ticket, which had cost nearly $100. And it was a ticket for a lower berth, which I always like. I searched everywhere in my room. The next morning I searched more. At lunch I told my friends I couldn’t find the ticket and figured it had fallen from my pocket when I removed the camera, tissues, or something on our long walk. Asking me if I wanted them to go to the terminal and buy another ticket, I told them No. I told them to just take me at the time we had originally planned to leave and I would purchase whatever ticket was available. Myroslava, Sergii’s wife said they would come help me look as six eyes were better than two.

After dinner I went back and continued sifting through my things. Every scrap of paper was scrutinized a few times, every book shaken violently, every suitcase emptied and repacked. I moved all the furniture, lifted the mattress twice, and picked my way through the garbage. It was nowhere to be found. About 6 PM my friends showed up, thinking to take me to the train station to purchase another but wanted to look one last time. “Might it be in the desk?” Sergii asked.

“I’ve looked there three times but it won’t offend me if you look again,” I offered. He did.

“How about this book or that?” he would ask.

“Go ahead and look; I have looked every place but where it is.”

“How about the mattress?” he asked one last time. I knew it was lost and I was going to waste $100, which I hate to do as I consider all I have belongs to God. I had moved the mattress completely off the bed, looked under the bed numerous times, and shaken out the sheets and blankets twice. But I was totally defeated as Sergii tipped the mattress up. And there it was! I can’t even describe how it was there as it was impossible to be where it was in the way that it was. But there it was, bigger than life. We had a sincere prayer of thanksgiving. I then sat down and wrote you the blog about the missing ticket. If you prayed, your prayers were abundantly answered.

We left for the train at 8:40 PM, arriving in plenty of time. Now, some of you know I love trains, especially eastern European trains. But this train put all others to shame. The car I was on was brand new. You could plug your computer in, lower the shades, and turn on the train PA system. It was clean, neat and best of all, this train had a toilet that did not empty out between the tracks but went into a holding tank. The advantage? When they would stop for long periods at stations, the bathrooms remained unlocked. Not so in the other trains I have traveled on. When coming into a station, the doors were locked, and on certain trips, you could be sitting in a station for a couple of hours in the middle of the night. You might imagine the distress that might being when nature called.

But it became even better. There were no more than six people on our nine-compartment car. Each compartment has four beds in bunk fashion and a small table projecting out from the window. And I only had one compartment mate, and he spoke English. He was quite large but was very friendly and we had a good time.

At 11:40 we came to the Ukrainian border and I became a bit tense. That meant we were also at the Russian border and my visa was not good till midnight. I did not need any problems. The Ukrainian border guard was an attractive young woman who actually smiled and was very friendly. We breezed on through and the train was again plunging into the darkness. On and on we sped. Finally I lay down and fell asleep. We were awakened at 3:30 AM, at last it was time to pass Russian immigration. Again, it was a breeze. Whereas the tall guard did not offer a smile, he exhibited but mild interest in this American. No custom’s declarations, no searching the luggage, the counting of money, the searching questions. It was in and out and we were on the way again. It was the most delightful ride I have had in a long time.

One more train ride coming up, from Perm, in the Ural Mountains, back to Moscow. Am I ever looking forward to that ride. Boris Pasternak wrote Dr. Zhivago here. I remember seeing that movie back in the 60’s. I remember the best the landscapes. The train Zhivago rode on through the Russian Siberian wider. Yes, I look forward to that ride. I will take you on it with me.

God bless,

Don